


Hothead and Loudmouth

by Rubyleaf



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (side-eyes myself) I said a SHORT thing, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Childhood Friends AU, For Want of a Nail, Growing Up, Kiichi is literally the same except slightly nicer, Kimishita is a nerdy smart kid, M/M, Mutual Admiration, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Stupid childhood rivalries, Tsundere Tendencies, aka they actually meet during the kid flashback and not in middle school, at first, just in case I forget and this turns novel-length again, so now it's gonna be a short multichapter thing, they warm up to each other quickly don't worry, today on: this was meant to be a oneshot but I can't keep things short to save my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubyleaf/pseuds/Rubyleaf
Summary: Kimishita Atsushi, eleven years. For about five minutes he was completely infatuated with a boy, but that illusion just got destroyed by the boy in question opening his mouth.





	1. The Stranger Behind the Fence

Atsushi looked around, keeping a close watch on his surroundings, taking in street corners and memorable landmarks as he went. Granted, his friends seemed to know where they were taking him, but his friends could be idiots, and just in case they got lost at least he wanted to be able to know the way back. It had been some time since he had last seen this area, after all.

He only hoped this trip would be worth it. The guys had told him a lot about this person they wanted to show him, but the guys had also blabbered on about a ghost in the neighborhood soccer club lockers before, up until Atsushi had marched straight in and pulled out a frightened black cat. Well, this time, at least, their stories contained no supernatural elements. The guy they had been talking about on the way here sounded awfully talented, but none of their stories had ever implied that he might be anything other than human.

“Akkun, this way!” Kei-chan shouted from a few steps ahead. Atsushi clicked his tongue and hurried to follow after him and the others. He was just about to ask how much further they were planning to take him when they suddenly stopped, and he knew at once that they had reached their destination.

Stretched out before him was a huge soccer field. Not the small kid-sized kind they had at home but as big as the ones the adults played on, perfectly smooth without the slightest bump in the ground, the grass an intense shade of green, not a single patch of brown or yellow anywhere in sight. It was the kind of place Atsushi aspired to play on himself, one day, when he was older and strong enough to be part of a good team.

Not too far from the chain-link fence where they stood a group of kids was playing. Atsushi guessed they had to be around their age, even if they visibly came from better backgrounds; their cleats were more shiny, their equipment newer and better made, and many of them sported brand-name gear the kind of which Atsushi only got close to when they were on display in his father’s shop at home. They were all not bad, he thought. Three or four of them might be good enough to make it to a bigger stage someday if they kept at it. But he couldn’t make out anyone as special as the others had described.

“So?” he asked at last, throwing his friends an impatient stare. “Which one is it?”

Kei-chan stood on his tip-toes to try and see better, but he seemed as much at a loss as Atsushi was. “Can you see him, Yukki?”

“Duh, I’m not blind.” Yukki gave them both a smug look, then he pointed into the crowd. “He’s over there, see? The one who looks like a sixth-grader, the guy with the spiky hair.”

Atsushi squinted his eyes, following Yukki’s pointed finger with his gaze into the large group of players who had now bunched together around the ball, impossible to oversee. How was he supposed to make out a single person in this mess?

The ball escaped from the bunch of players, dribbled by a lanky, unremarkable kid. Several others followed him, others broke off into a different direction. The lanky kid turned around, quickly observing the situation, then he passed towards a player who was completely surrounded by marks on all sides.

And then Atsushi saw him.

A figure rose up from the middle of the group. Higher and higher he flew, soaring through the air as if his body had grown wings, the fiery red spikes of his hair tossing wildly around in the wind. Far above the reach of his opponents he hit the ball with his forehead and slammed it decisively into the goal.

Atsushi held his breath. He didn’t know what it was, but something about that set of movements held him intrigued. Something about this boy’s height, the lightness of his leap, the raw power in each and every one of his movements had captured his eye and now he suddenly couldn’t look away.

The boy’s teammates cheered, running at him to tackle him with hugs. He threw both his fists into the air in triumph, laughing and cheerfully replying something as they shouted what could only be pure, unbridled praise.

Atsushi’s hands gripped the fence. He strained his ears, trying to catch what they were shouting, wondering if they were saying the boy’s name. Wondering what the boy’s name was. Wondering who this boy was, what he was doing here. How long he had been playing soccer. When he had become this good. If he was planning to continue playing in middle school, in high school, as a pro. Was he planning to put that height, that power of his to use? Was there any chance that Atsushi could ever play with him, or against him?

“...Akkun? Are you listening?”

With an abrupt start he jolted out of his thoughts. “What?” he asked irritably.

“I’m saying I was right,” Kei-chan said, crossing his arms. “This guy looks like a poser. You’re totally better than that jerk, Akkun!”

Atsushi glanced at him, then back at the redhead, furrowing his brows. “I’m not so sure,” he said. “Let me watch him a little more.”

It was definitely not an excuse to get to watch this guy a little longer.

“That’s our Akkun!” Yukki laughed. “Always so humble!”

Atsushi ignored him. His eyes were already fixed on the boy again. The game had resumed, and he had quickly taken possession of the ball, quickly, easily dribbling past the defenders back towards the opponents’ goal.

He really was tall, Atsushi thought. And long-limbed, but not lanky at the same time. This boy looked like he was made entirely of muscle, a being created for the sole purpose of moving as fiercely and powerfully as possible. His long legs scaled the large adult-sized pitch as if it was Atsushi’s small playing ground at home. His arms seemed to reach for the goal. His movements weren’t precise, not the slightest bit calculated. He played entirely by gut feeling. Every one of his actions radiated determination and the raw joy of playing.

Atsushi pressed his face against the fence. If only this stupid thing wasn’t here. If only he could simply run out there and join them. He wanted to join them. He wanted to play with this boy, against this boy, whatever. Anything was fine, as long as he could stand on the same pitch and see that power up close.

The goalkeeper stopped the boy’s shot at the last second, and Atsushi almost cursed under his breath. The boy himself seemed frustrated too; he yelled something and pouted, but that annoyance quickly passed as he turned around and ran back to his team’s side of the pitch, ready to make a new attempt.

He was standing close now, Atsushi realized, close enough to make out the details of his face. He seemed even taller up close. His hair seemed even redder. The features of his face were handsome, unfairly mature for someone who had to be the same age as Atushi. But nothing caught and held his attention as much as the boy’s eyes. His eyes were bright and filled with a sparking fire, a flame that was ready to explode into a roaring, all-encompassing burst of energy at any given second.

It was probably time to turn back. Atsushi had been standing here long enough. The sight of this guy was giving him weird feelings, and it was creeping him out. Better get out of here before any of this left any lasting damage and the image of these powerful movements, these burning eyes haunted him in his dreams.

And yet he kept standing there, rooted to the ground, unable to tear his gaze from the boy for a single second.

The ball was passed to the boy again. He tried to start dribbling, but two of his opponents were on him immediately. He tried to dodge. They anticipated it. There was a struggle. He glanced over his shoulder to one of his teammates and sent a high, arching pass.

The ball missed its target and flew over the chain-link fence, landing only a few feet away from where Atsushi stood.

His heart skipped a beat. For a split second his mind went blank, stumbling in its attempt to keep up with the situation.

“Kiichi, you moron!” one of the guys shouted, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You sent the ball over the fence again! This time you go get it, you prick!”

Atushi reacted before anyone had a time to reply. In a split second he had picked up the ball, stepping away from the fence far enough to kick it over. “Don’t worry about it!” he shouted to the astonished players on the other side. “I’ll send it right back!”

His heart was pounding in his chest. All the players on the pitch had to be watching him right now, he knew. Including that mysterious tall boy. Sooner than he had ever hoped, a chance had opened to show him his skills.

“Hey, don’t spoil him!” one of the kids yelled back. “Kiichi kicked it out, so he’s gotta run out to get him! You hear that, Kii– Kiichi, where are you going?”

Atsushi looked up from the ball. The boy he had been watching so intently earlier had turned from his place, running along the fence at a breathtaking speed, opening the gate and darting out without bothering to close it behind him. And then suddenly he was standing in front of Atsushi, face to face, only a few footsteps away.

He really was tall.

For a few moments they only stood there, staring at each other. The word stood still. Neither of them said a word.

Then suddenly the boy in front of him extended a hand and said a short, simple sentence.

“I’m better than you.”

Atsushi blinked. For a short moment he simply continued to stare at the boy, struggling to comprehend his words.

Then their meaning kicked in, and annoyance flared as any and all admiration he had had for this stranger flew straight out of the window.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, gimme the ball.” Now the boy was extending both hands, and Atsushi noted that while his voice wasn’t unpleasant, something about his intonation was incredibly grating. “I can do that way better than you.”

Atsushi clicked his tongue, clutching the ball more tightly than ever. “Oh yeah?” he snapped back at the boy. “Who said you’re so amazing that you can just tell this to random strangers you haven’t even seen play, huh?”

“Everybody says that!” the boy replied, sticking his nose high up into the air. “I’m a genius! I bet you don’t even know what that word means!”

“Are you stupid? Every five-year-old knows what a genius is!” Atsushi shouted back. “And you’re not! You’re just a showoff!”

The boy gave a jolt, and the smug look on his face wobbled and disappeared. “I’m not a showoff!” he burst out, finally getting annoyed in his turn. “You’re a showoff, you... you... you stupid showoff!” He stuck out his tongue. “And your shirt is ugly!”

“Oh yeah? Well, at least I didn’t beg my mommy to pay way too much for an overpriced brand shirt that’s not even as good as other brands!”

There was a moment of silence, and Atsushi basked in the glory of his momentary victory as the infuriating beanpole stood speechless.

“It sure is as good as other brands! All the pros wear this brand!” the idiot declared at last, sticking out his chest. “Your shirt’s so ugly, I bet you don’t even know nothing about brands!”

“Joke’s on you, I know everything about sports equipment!” Atsushi replied triumphantly. “You know why? My old man sells them! And your brand falls apart at the seams after three weeks of wearing!”

“Well, I’ve had this for four, you lying jerk! Suck it!”

“Congratulations, you’re just too blind to see the threads coming loose on the sleeves!”

With a jerk the boy glanced down at his wrists, blinking at the ends of his sleeves before hastily covering them with his hands. “Who cares!” he replied, crossing his arms and blushing. “If you nerd walk around in this sucky outfit, I bet your dad’s store isn’t going well anyway!”

This time it was Atsushi’s turn to jolt and turn red, not with embarrassment but with barely-contained fury. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re poor!”

“I dare you to say that again!”

“You’re poor! You’re dirt broke, you  _looooser_!”

“I’m going to kill you!”

Dropping the ball to the ground, Atsushi made to leap at the much taller boy, ready to bring him down and strangle him until he apologized to both him and his father. But he didn’t get this far. Two pairs of arms caught hold of him, roughly yanking him backwards no matter how much he struggled.

“Akkun, stop, stop!” Kei-chan shouted at him from his left. “He’s not worth it!”

“That’s right!” Yukki said from the right, pointing at the boy. “Let us beat him up instead!”

“Yukki, no!”

“Oh, yes!” Stepping in front of Atsushi, Yukki planted his hands on his hips to glare up at the tall idiot. “Our Akkun’s way better than you anyway, moron!”

Kei-chan looked a little surprised, then he nodded furiously while half hiding behind Atsushi’s back. “That’s right!” he said. “He’s the smartest guy in our grade, and he can do a hundred keepie-uppies in a row!”

“Oh yeah?” the boy shot back, grabbing the ball before anyone could stop him. “Then I’m gonna do two hundred!” he declared. “Watch me!”

From the corner of his eye Atsushi observed the other players crowding together at the fence, watching the scene unfold. Some were looking impatient, others exasperated; most of them, however, seemed as entertained as people watching a very good movie.

“So what do we do about the game?” one of them asked.

“Let’s just wait,” said another. “This is gonna be way funnier anyway.”

Dropping the ball to the ground, the boy looked at it from all sides before lightly picking it up with his foot and beginning to kick it up. One, two, three, four, five times he did it with ease. On the sixth time he almost dropped it but caught it with a move that almost sent him tumbling backwards, regained his balance, continued holding it up for about five more times, then kicked it too hard and sent it flying straight into his face.

Kei-chan and Yukki burst out laughing. Atsushi couldn’t stop the smug grin. Even some of the guys on the pitch snickered.

Huffing and cursing, the boy rubbed his face where the ball had hit it before catching sight of the others’ faces and regaining his composure. “Ha! You fell for my bluff!” he shouted. “That was just warmup! Watch  _this!_ ”

With that he kicked the ball up again, kept it in the air for about half a dozen times, then messed up his coordination and smashed it hard into the chain-link fence.

This time everyone laughed. “Goal!” cheered the boys on the pitch. “You sure you don’t need help with this one?”

“Shut up!” the boy yelled, stomping his foot, and this time he couldn’t hide his frustration. “Even geniuses make mistakes! This time I’m gonna do it for sure!”

He tried to pick up the ball again and dropped it after a miserable two keepie-uppies.

“You don’t focus hard enough.”

Stepping past his cheering friends, Atsushi took the ball from the sulking idiot, coming to stand next to him like a coach trying to teach a move to a struggling student. “It’s all about keeping a cool head,” he said. “Watch this.”

Picking up the ball with his foot, he began to keep it up in the air, and everything around him faded. On the edge of his consciousness he dimly registered voices, both his friends’ and the strangers’, but the beanpole’s voice he didn’t catch. Over and over he kept the ball in the air, tens of times, dozens, doing nothing but tap it up lightly with the same perfectly rehearsed move. It was all in the rhythm, he thought. Keeping the ball in the same spot, and always kicking it up with the same amount of energy so it always came back down after the same amount of time. That was when it turned from a game of chasing the ball with his foot to an exercise he could repeat over and over until his legs grew tired.

A hundred times he repeated this motion, and then a few more times for good measure, just in case he or someone else had miscounted. Then, following a spontaneous impulse, he kicked the ball up higher, caught it again, and sent it towards the fence.

This time, however, he hadn’t aimed well. There was no way the ball would make it over at this angle. He should go after it and–

Something passed by him in a flash. A figure darted out from his side, speeding after the ball faster than the eye could follow. Long, powerful legs kicked off from the ground, leaping high into the air. A head of spiky red hair collided with the ball, slamming it upwards and sending it flying over the fence and onto the pitch.

The beanpole landed on the ground, turning around and grinning. Not a smug or arrogant grin like the ones before. This grin was innocent, bright eyes sparkling with pure, innocent joy.

Before Atsushi could understand what was happening, he was already grinning back.

“Good to know you only suck at keepie-uppies,” he said.

“I told you, I’m a genius.” The boy’s grin turned smug again, but this time it was minimally less insufferable. “Nice pass.”

Atsushi snorted. “Nice header.”

“Thanks, I know.” For a moment the beanpole’s expression turned insufferable, then his smug grin faded, and he continued to stare at Atsushi for a very long moment, as if pondering something in his head.

“Hey,” he said at last, “what’s your name?”

“So you’re finally asking? I thought you had no manners at all.” Atsushi crossed his arms and smirked, choosing to ignore the strange flutter that stirred in his chest at the guy’s interest. “I’m Kimishita Atsushi. And who are you?”

“I’m the great Ooshiba Kiichi!” the boy replied, striking a pose he probably thought was cool. “You better remember this name!”

With that he turned around and ran back along the fence, stepping through the still-open gate and spinning around again as he closed it behind him. “You better come here again!” he declared. “’Cause someday I’m gonna beat you at keepie-uppies, Kimishita Atsushi!”

Atsushi stood smirking as Kiichi ran back to his team, taking his position and resuming the game. Somehow he felt victorious, and he couldn’t tell why. “Good luck then,” he called after his new self-declared rival. “I’d like to see you try, Kiichi!”


	2. Watchfulness and Wildflowers

From that day on playing together became something of a regular occurrence.

The first few times Atsushi simply visited because he was curious, and somehow whenever he came by Kiichi was always there or came by so quickly that Atsushi couldn’t help wondering if he made his teammates tell him when he showed up. Kiichi made big boasts every time, and Atsushi yelled at him for it, and in the end he still couldn’t beat him at keepie-uppies no matter how much he tried. Aside from this petty rivalry, however, they weren’t half bad as a team. Kiichi was an easy passing target and a powerful scorer, and together with Atsushi’s passes they scored goal after goal until all of Kiichi’s usual teammates refused to play against them together anymore. They still spent most of their time bickering; but on the soccer pitch they could somehow understand each other’s thoughts, and together they were stronger than anything they had ever imagined.

Even if Kiichi still wouldn’t shut up about the stupid keepie-uppies.

Today was one of those days where he was acting even more obnoxious than usual. For the fifth time he was nagging and bugging and  _bothering_  Atsushi to compete in keepie-uppies, even though Atsushi’s record was now at one hundred and fifty-three while Kiichi’s lay at a whopping twenty-nine. At this point he didn’t even look forward to the opportunity to show off; it was just annoying, and each time he picked up the ball he had to resist the temptation to skip past the keepie-uppies and kick it straight into Kiichi’s face.

Instead, however, a better idea crossed his mind. “You’re no good when you’re trying to one-up me,” he said, placing the ball into Kiichi’s hands. “You go first, and then I try to beat your record.”

Kiichi blinked at him for a moment, then he shrugged, dropping the ball to the ground and picking it up with his foot. “Okay,” he said. “Why not.”

Atsushi watched and counted as Kiichi continued his keepie-uppies, sometimes smoothly, other times clumsily and still making the same old mistakes. Kiichi was getting better, he thought, but slowly. And he could probably get better much faster if he figured out how to use his head.

“You’re too impatient,” he said when Kiichi dropped his ball again at the consistent mark of twenty-five. “You’re moving your foot too much. If you hold back, you’ll stop hitting the ball in your face all the time.”

Kiichi gave a start, turning around to glare at Atsushi before running to chase after the ball. “Don’t tell me what to do!” he burst out. “I’m a genius, I can do this myself!”

“Oh yeah? Good luck being stuck at thirty then!”

“I’m not gonna be stuck at thirty! I just gotta get the hang of this stuff!”

“I was literally just telling you how, dumbass!”

“Shut up! Lemme try again! Watch this!”

With that Kiichi returned to his position and started anew. Atsushi was just about to criticize him again, but the remark remained stuck in his throat. All he could do was stand on the side and stare at Kiichi’s movements, silently wondering if his eyes were betraying him.

Kiichi’s way of playing was different from before. Where his movements earlier had been impatient and uncontrolled, he was being more careful now, gently tapping the ball with his foot no matter how hard the muscles in his leg twitched, revealing how much he was restraining himself. His lips were pressed together into a stubborn pout, his gaze laser-focused on the ball as he paid attention to nothing but the task at hand.

Thirty keepie-uppies came and went. Still Kiichi kept going. Atsushi began to tap the rhythm against his leg with his finger, light, steady, so unlike Kiichi and yet so fitting. Forty keepie-uppies. Fifty. Sixty. Seventy. Seventy-one. Seventy-two–

Kiichi dropped down to the ground, clutching his leg and groaning.

“It hurts!” he wailed, sticking it up in the air with a grimace. “It cramps! Stupid leg! Stupid keepie-uppies!”

“Stop whining!” Atsushi shouted over him, kneeling down at his side and examining the cramping leg with a scowl. “Get up and then put your weight on it and bend your knee, that’s what–”

“No! No! No!” Kiichi burst out. “I can’t stand! I don’t wanna stand! It hurts!”

“It helps, stupid!” Groaning, Atsushi tried to pull him up only to quickly be swatted away. “Fine!” he snapped. “Then stay on the ground! Take your foot and pull it to your face while keeping your leg straight, like this–”

Kiichi violently shook his head. “No! Ow, ow, ow!”

“Listen to me!” With a click of his tongue Atsushi grabbed Kiichi’s face to turn it towards himself. “It helps! Quit your whining and look how I do it! Here!”

Blinking, Kiichi sat and watched as Atsushi showed him the move, stunned into silence for the moment. Then, with a deep breath and a furious huff, he turned back around and grabbed hold of his foot.

“It hurts,” he complained.

Atsushi only clicked his tongue. “Keep going.”

“Or what?”

“Or else you’re a weak little kid.”

Gritting his teeth, Kiichi shifted his weight and pulled his leg upwards.

“It hurts,” he whined throughout the exercise. “It hurts, it hurts, it– huh?”

Wide-eyed and baffled, he lowered his leg to the ground, staring at it as if it had developed a life of its own. Then, still visibly stumped, he lifted and turned his head to stare at Atsushi.

“What?” Atsushi replied, half embarrassed, half flattered by this expression. “I told you so.”

Kiichi’s expression didn’t change. “You actually know stuff.”

“Wha– Of course!” Atsushi felt his face heat up for no discernible reason. “Every little kid knows stuff like this!”

“Nope.” Kiichi crossed his arms. “You’re smart.”

“Not that smart. You’re just stupid!”

“I’m not stupid! You’re stupid!” Jumping to his feet, Kiichi planted his hands on his hips, glaring down at Atsushi in annoyance. “I just complimented you! Accept it, you jerk!”

“Wha–?” Kimishita spluttered, jumping up in his turn. “Shut up, moron! Don’t act like you just did something super generous!”

“Then I take it back! I take the smart back!”

“Keep it, idiot! I never asked for it anyway!”

But even though he had said that, Atsushi couldn’t help feeling a little happier than usual when he went home.

\---

“A-tsu-shi! Hey, are you listening?”

With a sigh Atsushi put his book down, finally lifting his gaze to stare at the red-headed rag-tag dangling in front of his face. “What?” he asked impatiently. “Can’t you shut up for five minutes?”

“I’m bored.” Kiichi yawned, draping himself over the kitchen table and Atsushi’s book, to his chagrin. “I wanna play soccer already.”

“I told you, soon!” Atsushi replied, trying and failing to retrieve his book from underneath his friend. “After I finish this chapter, so shut up and let me read!”

“But you’re taking forever!” Sitting up straight, Kiichi picked up the book and stared at the pages. “I bet this stupid boring book doesn’t even have chapters and– uh?” He tried to read a sentence and squinted. “What language is that?”

Atsushi took the book from his hands. “Japanese. Not my fault you still don’t know how to read kanji.”

“You read books in  _kanji_? Ew.” Kiichi made a face. “You’re such a nerd,  _Akkun_.”

“Idiot! We’re in sixth grade! Everyone our age can do that except you!”

“You’re still a nerd,” Kiichi replied, unfazed. “What’s that book even about? Your boring science stuff again?”

“Science isn’t boring!” Atsushi shot back. “But this is a novel. By Dazai–”

“Ew! Gross! You creep! Get it away! Ew!”

Startled, Atsushi gaped as Kiichi jumped up from the bench with a gesture as if trying to ward off a monster. “My sis tried to make me read that before!” he shouted. “Get it away! It’s horrible!”

Atsushi looked up at Kiichi and then down at the book, torn between confusion, irritation and embarrassment. “It’s not that bad,” he grumbled awkwardly.

“It is! It is! Put that away!” Kiichi shook himself. “C’mon, let’s play soccer instead! Or else you’re gonna turn into a demon like my sis!”

Atsushi clicked his tongue, then he nodded and sighed. No point in trying to read with Kiichi here, anyway. Honestly he should have known from the moment his friend had turned up on his doorstep.

About a year had passed since the fateful meeting at the soccer pitch, and somehow visiting each other’s houses had become a regular occurrence. Kiichi was still stupid and a little annoying, and a lot of the time they still called each other names, but he wasn’t half bad. Atsushi had grown attached to him, and he had to admit that hanging out together like this could be kind of fun.

Not as fun as playing soccer together, of course. If Atsushi had found that fun before, it had been nothing compared to the joy and excitement he felt now, the adrenaline buzzing through his veins whenever his foot connected with the ball and sent it flying to Kiichi, who caught it and slammed it into the net no matter where they were on the pitch. It was like he could physically feel himself growing stronger by the day, his passes more precise and powerful, his sprints even faster. Playing soccer with Kiichi felt  _right_  somehow, as if it was something destined for him from the very beginning and had simply been waiting for the right moment to enter his life and turn it upside-down.

Today was no exception. There was nobody except them on the pitch, and they didn’t need anyone else. No one else could keep up with them anyway. Laser-focused and grinning, they chased the ball all over the grass, running from side to side and attempting more and more risky techniques until they finally flopped down onto the ground with no breath left in their lungs and huge smiles on their faces.

“That was fun,” Kiichi said at his side, closing his eyes and letting the sun shine down on his face. “Did you see that thing I did at the end? I came up with that all by myself!”

Atsushi raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “You’re getting better, huh?”

“Yup! My talent is off the charts.” For a second Kiichi’s expression turned annoyingly smug again, then he turned his head, opening his eyes and sobering abruptly. “But you got better too,” he said. “Your passes are cool as hell!”

Atsushi felt his face heat up, but his smile widened, turning flattered and proud. “I’ve been working hard,” he said. “I like passing the most. I think I’d like to be a playmaker in the future.”

Kiichi blinked, then he furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, thinking. “What’s that?”

“Idiot! How can you have played since you were a baby and not know that?”

“I don’t care about names and stuff. The only cool position is forward, anyway.”

“Like hell it is!” Atsushi’s head shot up. “Every position is cool if you play well enough,” he said in his most know-it-all tone. “A playmaker is the one right behind the forwards who passes the ball and plans out the attacks. It’s like being the man behind the man.”

“Oh!” Kiichi’s eyes went round. “Like mission control?”

Atsushi nodded. “Yeah! You’re part of the attack, but you still get to plan out and control everything.” He laid his head back down. “That’s what I want to do.”

“Huh.”

Rolling over to lie on his stomach, Kiichi poked the ball with his finger, rolling it back and forth. “So basically,” he said, “I’m gonna be the forward and score all the goals, and you’re behind me and send me the ball?”

Atsushi looked up again, a slight flutter stirring at the way Kiichi had phrased it, as if he was deadly certain the two of them would play on the same team in the future. It sounded nice, he had to admit. It really did. Playing together like this was fun, but it wasn’t the same as playing soccer in a real match, with real teammates and opponents and real titles to win. He wanted to aim for titles with Kiichi. If it was the two of them, he had the feeling they could do it.

“I guess,” he said quietly. “If we’re on the same team.”

“We gotta be!”

Atsushi gave a jolt, taken off guard by the sudden burst of emotion. “Are you kidding me?” Kiichi shouted, abruptly lifting himself up on his elbows. “We gotta be teammates! We’re the perfect team! With your passes and my goals, I bet we could even win the World Cup!”

“...Idiot.”

A smile made its way on Atsushi’s face, uncalled, unbidden, but he made no effort to hide it or shoo it away. “You’re exaggerating,” he said, tapping Kiichi’s shoulder with his fist as his friend pouted in protest. “But I guess you’re not wrong. Where you going in middle school?”

“The Tokyo Selection Team.”

Atsushi gaped at him, too stumped to form a coherent thought for the moment. “What–”

“You heard me.” Kiichi turned back around, staring at him over his shoulder and crossing his arms. “That’s where all the strongest guys are.”

“Wait, there’s no way I can–”

“You can.”

“Listen–”

“You can,” Kiichi repeated again, his tone allowing no arguments. “I know you can. You’re a good player, you jerk!”

Atsushi turned away, covering his mouth with his hand in a half-hearted effort to hide the emotion on his face. “But...” he muttered. “Not that good...”

Kiichi was silent for a very long moment. Then he gave a huff.

“You’re right,” he said. “You’re not good.”

A cold lump abruptly got stuck in Atsushi’s throat.

“You’re amazing, you stupid jerk!”

A figure blocked out the sun, and the next moment a heavy weight came crashing down on Atsushi’s chest, heavy and sweaty and incredibly warm. Long arms wrapped themselves around his back, and his nose was tickled by a messy mop of red hair.

“Wha–?” Atsushi spluttered, wriggling and struggling in vain. “Let me go, you idiot!”

“Nope.” Kiichi only tightened his grip. “I’m not letting go till you say you’re gonna try for the selection with me.”

Atsushi clicked his tongue. “This is blackmail!”

“No! I’m trying to help you!” Kiichi kicked his feet against the ground, making Atsushi splutter and cough under his weight. “Say you’re gonna try for the selection with me or else you’re gonna die here!”

“...fine.”

His whole face on fire, Atsushi lifted up an arm and half-heartedly placed it on Kiichi’s back to give it an awkward pat. “I’ll try for that stupid selection and see how far I get.” Kiichi squeezed him even tighter, and the sudden desire to hide in a hole in the ground and never come out again grew overwhelming. “Now get off me already!”

Kiichi loosened his grip a little, then he attacked Atsushi again full force. “Nope,” he said. “Just a little longer.”

Atsushi wanted to say something about broken promises, but in the end he kept his mouth shut. Instead he did something horribly embarrassing and lifted up his other arm, wrapping it around Kiichi and lightly returning the squeeze. He didn’t know why he did it. He usually hated affection unless it came from his father, and even then he only tolerated small doses. But this here, weird and embarrassing as it was, felt kind of... nice.

Oh well, whatever. Who cared what this feeling was, or why he felt that way. What mattered for now was that it was okay. So might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

\---

“So what did he say?”

Atsushi adjusted the phone in his hand, his grin widening at the impatient tone in Kiichi’s voice, the way he audibly straightened up on the other end of the line. Finally, he thought. Finally he could break the news to him, the one thing he had been dying to tell him all afternoon, the sole reason why he had called him today at all. “He said I’m good enough to try for the selection,” he said. Then he waited.

Kiichi was silent for a good moment, then there was a hurried rustle, and his voice rang out of the speaker again, buzzing with excitement. “For real?” he burst out. “I knew it!”

“Yeah! He said he wanted to suggest it to me anyway.” Atsushi had to stop himself from shouting with excitement in his turn, joy bubbling through his veins and building up inside him like trapped laughter, ready to erupt from him in a cheer at any given moment. “My old man’s okay with it too! I’m all set!”

“I  _knew_  it!”

Atsushi couldn’t see Kiichi’s face, but he could vividly imagine it, his grin so wide and proud and excited it nearly reached his ears, his bright eyes sparkling. “See?” he said, and now he sounded a little more like his usual smug self again, but Atsushi was only the slightest bit annoyed. “I’m always right after all!”

“Just about stuff like this,” Atsushi replied with a scoff and a smirk. “But I guess everyone has to be right sometimes.”

“Yup, that’s– wait! Did you just say I’m wrong all the time?”

“What? Maybe you’d be wrong less often if you bothered to use your brain!”

“I do use my brain! I use it all the time!”

“Don’t brag about it, it’s biologically impossible not to! I meant using it for something useful!”

“Soccer and tropical fish are useful!”

“Not if you don’t care about anything else!”

“I do care about other stuff too!”

Atsushi gave a snort, but something about Kiichi’s voice put him off. He actually sounded serious all of a sudden, completely unfitting of their usual playful banter. “Like what?”

“Like–” Kiichi started out confidently, then hastily interrupted himself and trailed off. “Like, uh... like my friends. And stuff.”

Atsushi raised an eyebrow, but for some reason he couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed. Maybe the emotion in Kiichi’s voice was contagious, he thought. Or maybe it was the indirect admission that he, as Kiichi’s friend, was also someone he cared about.

“Fair enough,” he said, wondering why on earth there was a blush on his face. “Then again, who doesn’t?”

Kiichi didn’t respond to that.

\---

Atsushi quickly forgot about that conversation, but he was all too soon reminded of it again when Kiichi suddenly started acting weird.

It was yet another one of their spontaneous soccer meetups after school, but today something seemed different. Usually Atsushi was the first to show up, but this time Kiichi was already there when he arrived, his hands buried deep in his pockets and his eyes pointedly looking at anything but Atsushi. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice him until Atsushi walked up to him and waved a hand in front of his face.

“Hey, don’t space out,” he said. “What’s up?”

Kiichi gave a jolt, almost jumping out of his skin as he registered Atsushi’s presence, his face rapidly turning a bright red. “N-Nothing!” he spluttered, turning on his heel and running out onto the pitch ahead of Atsushi. “You’re late! Let’s get playing already!”

Atsushi stared after him in disbelief, then he glanced at his watch. He most definitely wasn’t late. If anything he was early. But not early enough for Kiichi, apparently.

Scowling, he ran after him, catching up with him in the middle of the pitch. “What are you talking about?” he shouted. “I’m not late! Is your watch wrong or something?”

Kiichi didn’t answer. His hand fidgeted with something in his pocket. For a second he looked ready to pull it out and say something, then he blushed even redder, shaking his head and turning towards the ball.

“My watch is fine,” he muttered through a pout. “Yours is wrong.”

Atsushi wanted to reply that he knew for a fact it wasn’t, but for now he was too confused to open his mouth. What the hell had happened? Just a day ago Kiichi had been sparkling with excitement about the selection and their promise, and now he was completely incoherent and red as a tomato. What in the world had gone down since yesterday’s phone call? Had Atsushi said something wrong?

Well, he thought, it would probably all smooth out while playing.

Except... it didn’t. Instead it only got worse.

Kiichi was completely out of it. He kept stumbling over the ball and missing easy goals and spacing out in the middle of the pitch, and once or twice he stopped in the middle of the game and stared at Atsushi with a determined pout while fidgeting in his pocket, only to trail off and grumble something unintelligible while turning away. Every time the ball came close to touching his pocket he would furiously dodge it, looking as terrified as if it contained a priceless treasure that would break at the slightest touch.

At long last Atsushi had enough. Giving a furious click of the tongue, he kicked the ball as hard as he could and slammed it right against the side of Kiichi’s head.

“Hey, idiot!” he shouted, storming over to him and grabbing his collar before Kiichi could try to escape again. “What the hell is wrong with you today? If you have a problem with me then stop being a chicken and say it!”

Kiichi blinked at him, rubbing his head, then he stared off to the side, stiffening awkwardly under Atsushi’s grip. “Let me go,” he said. “It’s nothing.”

“If it’s nothing then why do you keep acting like it’s something, huh?”

“It’s really nothing!”

“ _Kiichi!_ ”

“...okay. I got it.” Kiichi’s face was redder than ever, his lips pressed together into a furious, determined pout. “Let me go, I’m gonna show you.”

Atsushi cautiously loosened his grip. “Show me wha–”

Before he could finish the sentence, something was very roughly shoved in his face.

Stumbling backwards, he blinked, reflexively bringing his hands between his face and the unknown object. They brushed against something small and light. Atsushi stared in disbelief. Was this a joke?

Flowers? A whole bunch of wildflowers, slightly squashed and wilted by their stay inside Kiichi’s pocket?

“What in the–”

“Shut up,” Kiichi grumbled in the general direction of the ground. “I found these and I've seen that adults sometimes give each other flowers and stuff as congrats or whatever. So here. Grats on your coach and your dad letting you go to that selection tryout thing.”

Atsushi stared at him for a good moment, trying and failing to make sense of Kiichi’s incoherent muttering. “That’s not even a big deal,” he said at last.

Kiichi pulled back the flowers, looking even more embarrassed than before, if that was even possible. “Who cares?”

“Adults only give flowers for bigger things, stupid!” Honestly, Atsushi had no idea what he was rambling on about either, only that he didn’t know what on earth he was feeling and didn’t want to know. “Like weddings or hospital releases or–”

“That’s ‘cause adults are bigger than us too.” Kiichi’s hand with the flowers dangled to the floor now, his face and body half turned away from Atsushi. “We’re not adults. So we can give flowers for smaller stuff.”

It sounded like a very flimsy excuse, but for what exactly, Atsushi couldn’t tell. In fact, he wasn’t sure Kiichi himself knew. Knowing him, he had probably only followed a sudden impulse and was now trying to justify it out of embarrassment. But who on earth suddenly got the random impulse to give their friend a bunch of wildflowers?

Lame, he thought. Stupid. But... at the same time, somehow not.

“That’s a weird explanation,” he said out loud.

Kiichi pulled back the flowers, looking ready to stuff them back into his pocket, his shoulders slumping and his face distorted with disappointment and frustration, almost sad. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “If you don’t want them, I’m gonna keep the flowers and you jerk get nothing.”

Atsushi swallowed. He didn’t want this, he realized. He didn’t want Kiichi to retract the gift. Especially not if that gesture came with him looking so unhappy and dejected.

“Fine,” he said, feeling his face heat up as he spoke. “I’m taking them.”

Kiichi’s face lit up on the spot. “Really?”

“Did I stutter?” Now it was Atsushi’s turn to glare at the ground, blushing and irritable. “Hurry up and hand them over before I change my mind!”

Almost as soon as he had finished his sentence Kiichi extended his arm, and Atsushi brought up his hands just in time to catch the battered bouquet of flowers. They didn’t look too good, but they seemed to have been picked very recently, only to be hastily stuffed into Kiichi’s pocket in an embarrassed impulse reaction. He supposed they could still be saved by being put into a glass of water, although he wasn’t looking forward to explaining to his father where he had got them.

He did like them, he thought. And he liked the gesture.

“You shouldn’t have,” he muttered, lifting up the flowers so they hid half his face. “But... thank you.”

Atsushi still didn’t know how to explain it all to his father as he went home, but he didn’t bother hiding the flowers. He held them in front of his face, plain for everyone to see, not smiling but still giddy and happy in a number of very confusing ways. Special, somehow.

“Weird,” he finally muttered under his breath. “This is the first time anyone’s ever given me flowers, huh.”


	3. The Forward and His Playmaker

It was still early in the morning when Atsushi arrived, idly looking around the assembled people while stifling a yawn. Not that he was paying much attention to his surroundings. The only person he was expecting to recognize here had a way of making his presence known, whether he wanted him to or not.

From the side he dimly registered voices whispering among each other, and little by little he became aware that the voices were talking about him. “Look!” someone said in a stage whisper, and Atsushi caught himself thinking he didn’t want to hear this guy talking normally. “Isn’t that the ‘Bad Boy’, what was his name again... Kimishita or something?”

“Yeah,” whispered another voice, much more quietly than the first. “Kimishita Atsushi. I’ve played him once, he was terrifying!”

“I heard he has a really short temper,” said a third voice.

“He does,” added a fourth one. “I once saw him beat up a bunch of really tall guys and they all ran away.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah! I think he could kill a guy if he tried.”

“Scary!”

“Guys, shut up! He’s looking this way, do you want to die?”

Atsushi yawned and ignored them. He didn’t feel like talking to strangers at this ungodly hour of the morning; right now he wanted nothing more than a hot cup of coffee, another sandwich, and maybe a quiet place to sit down and close his eyes until the tryouts started. Thank goodness for his scary reputation, he thought. Without it he might actually be forced to socialize.

Maybe he should become more violent just for that, he thought idly, although the incident one of the whispering voices had referred to must have been a misunderstanding about his nature. He remembered those guys; tall but wimpy and spineless, picking on some defenseless third-grader half their size on the sidelines of a tournament and quickly running away as soon as Atsushi had jumped in and shown some resistance. In hindsight he might have been a bit thoughtless there. If they hadn’t been such cowards and chosen to defend themselves, he likely wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Atsushi yawned again. So early. And chilly. And loud. He was hungry.

The sound of a car engine snapped him out of his thoughts. Then a screeching of tires.

Atsushi opened his eyes to find a familiar sedan standing in the middle of the crowd, barely two feet away from some of the frightened-looking kids.

Even before the door opened, he knew exactly who was inside.

“ _Ki-i-chi..._ ” he growled, marching towards the head of red hair as soon as it poked out of the car. “What the hell were you thinking, huh?”

There were gasps and a few shrieks. People hastily scrambled out of his way as he stormed towards the car door with a glare that would curdle fresh milk.

Slamming the car door shut, Kiichi stepped up to met him, visibly annoyed to have his grand entrance ruined like this. “What are you talking about?” he shouted back. “I wasn’t thinking nothing!”

“Yeah, obviously! You only use your head to hit soccer balls!”

A few people snickered. Kiichi glared at them. “Shut up!” he snapped. “I do use my head! What’s your problem now?”

Clicking his tongue, Atsushi gestured furiously to the car, still standing dangerously close to the edge of the crowd. “My problem is  _this_!” he said. “Were you trying to get people killed just to have your big entrance or what?”

“No!” Kiichi gave a huff. “Nothing happened! We stopped and didn’t hit nobody, so shut up!”

“Are you an idiot? It’s still irresponsible to drive your car into a freaking crowd, you moron!” Atsushi gestured at their surroundings. “What if somebody does something unexpected, huh? Or what if you scare someone to death? Heart attacks are a thing, dumbass!”

Kiichi’s pout intensified, but he backed away a little, guilt mingling into his expression. “I knew what I was doing,” he grumbled.

“Clearly you didn’t! How many more times do I have to tell you to use your head?”

Kiichi didn’t reply. He only kicked his foot against a few loose pebbles on the ground, sending them flying all over the place.

“Come on,” Atsushi said with a sigh, his expression softening as his anger faded. “If you want to make a good impression, do it with your soccer.”

“But...”

“No buts.” Atsushi crossed his arms, smirking. “Or does the great Ooshiba Kiichi need more than that because his soccer’s not enough?”

Kiichi straightened up abruptly. “’Course it’s enough!”

“I know,” Atsushi said with a smile. “Time to show all these guys.”

“Hey, hey, what’s up with these two?”

All around them the people who had been startled aside were now beginning to approach again. Curious looks were thrown their way, questioning, some startled or even frightened. “What the hell,” said one of them. “Do these two know each other?”

“No idea,” replied another. “I’ve never seen the Bad Boy smile at anybody before.”

“Me neither,” said a third voice. “Are they...  _friends_  or something? Does that guy even have friends?”

“I always thought he was too scary for that.”

“Shut up, he can hear you!”

“Yes, he’s my friend!”

Atsushi gave a start as Kiichi’s arm draped itself around his shoulders, pulling him close to his side, heavy but somehow not uncomfortable. “This guy’s my playmaker!” Kiichi declared loudly, pointing at Atsushi with his free arm before pointing at himself. “And I’m his forward! We’re gonna be the star combo of this team!”

“You’re too loud,” Atsushi muttered, slightly embarrassed by the exaggerated gesture. Still he made no effort to shove Kiichi’s arm off his shoulders or object  to anything he had said.

“I’m not too loud. Everyone’s gotta hear me,” Kiichi replied. “Listen up!” he continued to the group, but his voice seemed just a little quieter than before. “This guy is Kimishita Atsushi, and I’m the amazing Ooshiba Kiichi! You better remember our names!”

Atsushi wanted to crawl into the ground with second-hand embarrassment. After showing himself with such an embarrassing friend, he could kiss his reputation as an unapproachable jerk goodbye.

And yet he had never looked forward to joining this team together more than he did at this very moment.

\---

The inseparable duo of Tokyo’s new selection team was rapidly gathering fame.

At first people had been a little worried at the sight of these unlikely partners, yelling at each other and calling each other names all across the field, gesturing wildly and stomping feet at every flunked pass and missed shot. Once or twice they had almost tried to punch each other in the face, and teammates and coach alike had begun to question their admission on the team.

Soon, however, people had come to realize that the constant squabbling between the two held no actual hostility. Rather, they were giving off the aura of two old friends who knew each other well enough to criticize each other and throw insults, constantly arguing but inseparable. On the pitch they were like one mind in two bodies, always aware of what the other was thinking and doing, and off it they were never found too far from each other no matter how many insults were hurled. And even if it wasn’t for that, their first-name basis, all the glances and knowing smiles shared between them would have been enough to tip off their teammates about the true nature of their bond.

Neither of the two cared, of course. It didn’t matter much what people thought of them, as long as they respected their skill; and that they did, in spades. They were winning match after match together, scoring goal after goal. Tokyo’s number ten and eleven, people said, had a bright future ahead of them.

All in all, Atsushi felt good about life.

Not that he hadn’t before, of course. But this was different. Being teammates with Kiichi was drastically different in all the best ways, no matter how often they butted heads or screwed things up. They were a team now. They were playing together with others, competing for real titles. This ran deeper than a pair of kids meeting up after school to kick a ball together. They were partners, responsible for each other, taking part in each other’s successes and failures. It was them and their teammates against the world, and he was so here for that.

Honestly, it would be perfect if it wasn’t for one subject that began to come up annoyingly often.

“Kimishita, Kimishita! Do you have a girl you like?”

Atsushi stopped in his tracks. His eye twitched. He had expected this question to come up at some point, of course. Some holiday was approaching, Valentine’s Day or whatever, and the guys had been talking about nothing else for the past two weeks. And yet now that he had been targeted, he was still caught off guard.

“What–?” he burst out, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and put on the spot. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, don’t be shy!” another voice joined from the side, and with no small amount of horror Atsushi found a group of upperclassmen joining the circle. “You’re almost fourteen, there’s got to be someone, right?”

Atsushi backed away. “N-No!” he spluttered, fully aware of how unconvincing he sounded, utterly clueless about what else to do. “There’s nobody! I don’t care about stupid romance!”

“Hmm.” Curious eyes rested on him from all sides. “Is she in your class?”

Atsushi clicked his tongue. “No!”

“In your neighborhood?”

“ _No!_ ”

“Then maybe–”

“Hey, leave him alone,” said a familiar voice from behind.

Atsushi spun around, a look of relief spreading all over his face. “Kiichi!”

“He’s telling the truth,” Kiichi said, resting an elbow on Atsushi’s shoulder. “Atsushi hates girl stuff. This guy only cares about soccer and good grades.”

Atsushi stared at him for a moment, processing the words, then he jabbed him in the ribs in a burst of familiar, welcoming annoyance. “Idiot!” he snapped without any real malice. “You don’t have to phrase it like that!”

“What?” Kiichi looked perfectly unapologetic. “It’s true.”

“It’s not! Just because I’m saying I don’t have time to think about girls between school and practice and the store and everything–”

“Some people got no time and still do it.” Kiichi shrugged. “You just don’t care.”

“Listen–”

Truth be told, Atsushi didn’t know why he was so annoyed by the way Kiichi phrased it. Maybe he could instinctively tell Kiichi was messing with him and responded accordingly. Or maybe it really was the wording, the accusation that he really didn’t care about anything or anyone other than soccer and school. Or the way Kiichi’s words about his feelings towards girls came uncomfortably close to the truth.

It wasn’t even that he disliked girls. He got along with his female classmates just fine, or would if it wasn’t for the winks and knowing looks friends and adults would send his way whenever he spoke to a girl. The point was, he didn’t want to date any of them. He didn’t see them as potential crushes or girlfriends. That way of thinking didn’t matter to him. If it wasn’t for everyone else around him constantly pointing it out, the idea of it would never have crossed his mind.

He simply wasn’t keen on falling in love. That kind of thing didn’t have any room in his life. It didn’t matter.

But that was weird, right? Even if he still felt too young for all this nonsense, shouldn’t it at least make him feel  _something_?

The upperclassmen laughed, jokingly pulling him and Kiichi apart before their bickering could get off the rails. “Alright, we believe you. But what about you, Ooshiba? Don’t you have anybody you like?”

Atsushi stopped in his tracks. His eyes flitted up to Kiichi’s face. For some reason his heart skipped a beat.

Kiichi paused for a moment, thinking, then he shrugged. “Nope,” he said. “I think I’m just gonna date the first cute girl who asks me out.”

That answer felt strange somehow. Uncomfortable, and yet not. Was he annoyed? Was he relieved? Atsushi couldn’t tell.

“So basically,” he said out loud, “you don’t care either, and you’ll take whoever chooses you out of everyone?”

Kiichi stopped short, squirming uncomfortably under Atsushi’s gaze. “That’s not–”

“You wait until someone falls in love with you enough to ask you out and then you date them just for that, even though you don’t feel the same.” Atsushi didn’t understand why, but he was getting angry. “Is that not it?”

“No! I mean– maybe– but...” Kiichi’s voice trailed off, then he scowled. “What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong? It’s disrespectful, that’s what!” Atsushi shot back. “You’re just using somebody’s feelings because you want a girlfriend!”

“I’m just saying I’m gonna like whoever likes me! Win-win, right?”

“You...” Atsushi wanted to throw more insults at his head, but the rational part of his brain finally caught up with him. What was he doing? What was he getting all worked up for? Kiichi was just talking like that because he had never been in love himself. He would change his mind on his own. So why?

“It doesn’t work that way,” he muttered, turning away with a shrug. “Good thing no girl will ever like you because you’re so stupid.”

Kiichi went pink and tried to punch him, and Atsushi dodged. A fight broke out between them, and the upperclassmen had to step in. They got another scolding from the coach, but for once Atsushi didn’t care.

The weird feeling had passed. Things were back to normal.

\---

“Atsushi?”

Groaning, Atsushi rolled over on the bed, lifting his face off the pillow and yawning. “What?” he said unwillingly. “Another stupid idea of yours?”

“Nope,” Kiichi replied, hanging on the bed across from Atsushi’s, one arm dangling over the edge of the mattress and brushing the ground. “I just can’t sleep.”

Atsushi glanced at the clock and groaned. It was close to midnight, and they should definitely be sleeping. If Kiichi struck up a conversation now, it would probably derail and result in them both being panda-eyed and very cranky tomorrow morning.

Again.

Honestly, he should be getting used to it by now. This wasn’t their first year on the same team, and it wasn’t their first training camp together either. Or the first time they shared a room during one. And at least once a training camp Kiichi would definitely be unable to sleep and talk to Atsushi until two in the morning.

Next time Kiichi bothered him with this, he thought, he should just not answer and pretend to be asleep. Or maybe he should be unsympathetic now and leave his friend alone with his struggle against sleeplessness.

But of course he didn’t have the heart to do that. Again.

“I figured as much,” he said, sitting up on the bed and sighing at himself. “What’s up this time?”

“Nothing.” Kiichi propped himself up on his elbows, gazing at the air. “Just thinking.”

Atsushi bit back a comment about how unusual it was for Kiichi to be thinking and settled for a simple impatient glare. “About what?”

Shifting, Kiichi turned his head, meeting Atsushi’s eyes for a long, silent moment. Almost he looked like he wanted to say something. Then he shrugged, flopping back down on the mattress and kicking his legs.

“A lot of stuff,” he said. “I guess I’m just really not tired.”

“I told you not to drink all that coke at dinner. There’s caffeine in there, of course you’re not tired!”

“I don’t care.” Pushing himself off the mattress, Kiichi finally sat up, tossing aside his blanket and padding across the room to rummage through his bag. “I’m gonna play a game.”

Atsushi clicked his tongue. “You got me out of bed for that? I can’t even join you!”

Kiichi stopped in his tracks, then he dropped his console back into his bag and returned to his bed with a huff. “This sucks,” he said. “Next time I’m getting you a DS too. Then we can finally play together.”

“Don’t bother,” Atsushi replied, ignoring the embarrassed and happy flutter stirring inside him at Kiichi’s words. “I wouldn’t use it at home anyway. It’s a waste of money.”

“But–!”

“Forget it! It’s not like we have that many more training camps ahead of us in the first place.” Yawning, Atsushi lay back down, pulling the blanket over himself once more. “Whatever. If that’s all, I’m going to sleep.”

“No!”

Atsushi groaned. “What now?”

Kiichi shuffled his feet. Then he curled up on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on top of them.

“Stay up with me,” he said quietly, the words half muffled by the fabric of his pajama pants. “I wanna talk.”

Atsushi gave him a long look. Then he sighed. He knew that pose, that tone all too well by now. Something was bothering Kiichi, and that was why he couldn’t sleep. Truth be told, he had been suspecting that since the very beginning.

Tossing aside his blanket, he got up, making his way across the room and sitting down on Kiichi’s bed, close to his friend. “So something is up, huh,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Kiichi shifted and shuffled. His arms tightened around his knees. His eyes were all over the place.

“It’s... a girl,” he said at last. “From my class.”

A cold hand wrapped around Atsushi’s heart. It took him all he had not to inhale a hissing breath.

“What,” he said, faking a smirk and hoping to sound mocking, “did you fall in love?”

Kiichi shook his head, and something about the motion told Atsushi that he wasn’t lying. “Not me,” he muttered. “She.”

Atsushi didn’t know why, but he relaxed the tiniest bit. The cold grip on his heart loosened abruptly.

“We’ve been talking a bit,” he said, “and mailing and stuff. But today... she just sent me this mail outta nowhere. Saying she likes me. And... if I wanna go out with her.”

Atsushi waited for him to say anything else, but Kiichi remained silent. His body was tense, his shoulders pulled up to his ears, his nose buried between his knees. He looked strangely small in this position. Helpless, somehow.

“And?” Atsushi asked at last, breaking the silence. “What did you reply?”

“Nothing.”

Atsushi blinked.

“I dunno what to reply,” Kiichi said, sounding almost spiteful now. “Like... I want a girlfriend. And she’s nice and cute and everything. But I don’t think I want  _her_.”

The cold hand disappeared from Atsushi’s chest, replaced by something else, something small and unsure that seemed to change shape every time he tried to make out what it was. All he could tell was that it felt... strange. Not bad. Just strange.

“So even you got picky in the end,” he said. “I thought you wanted to date whatever girl asked you out first.”

Kiichi’s head jolted up, and although it was too dark to tell, Atsushi could have sworn he was blushing. “Shut up!” he burst out. “I was young and stupid!”

“You said that only a few months ago!”

“I’m not the same guy I was back then!” Sitting back, Kiichi crossed his arms and made a poor attempt at a dramatic pose. “That old Kiichi is gone. I’m a whole new person now.”

Atsushi smirked, raising his eyebrows. “Really? First time I hear about that.”

Huffing and pouting, Kiichi threw a mock punch at his head before flopping sideways on the mattress, rolling over to cross his arms behind his head and stare at the ceiling. “I dunno,” he said, sounding like he was talking to himself more than to Atsushi. “Love is weird. I thought just being loved by a girl would be awesome, but it sucks if it’s not the right girl.” He pursed his lips for a moment, then he added, “I don’t even know a right girl.”

Atsushi shifted on the covers, suddenly very uncomfortable with the subject of the conversation. “Maybe you haven’t met her yet.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Kiichi lifted a hand towards the ceiling and stared at it from below. “But it’s weird. I thought I’d just love whoever loves me, but... now this cute girl loves me and I just feel like she’s not right. Kinda like... I want somebody different. But I dunno who.”

Atsushi stared at his fingers. That feeling... it wasn’t so different from what he himself felt, in some way. Except he understood it a little better, or part of him did. The rest flat-out refused to acknowledge it.

But even so, Kiichi couldn’t be feeling the same way he did. Kiichi had a whole different attitude about all this. The parallels between their emotions were only skin-deep.

“Maybe you’re comparing her to someone,” he said, half wondering why he was talking about all this. “Like a celebrity, or a fictional character. D’you have any of those you’d call your type?”

Kiichi thought long and hard before shrugging. “Angelina Jolie?”

“Good luck staying single forever, then.”

“Shut up. She’s just pretty.” Kiichi crossed his arms again. “At least I got a type, Akkun.”

Atsushi blushed. Checkmate.

“I don’t care about types and romance,” he said irritably, turning his face away. “My old man did and look where it got him. I can’t bother with that.”

It was an excuse, of course, and Atsushi knew that Kiichi could most likely tell. His disinterest in girls didn’t come from his parents’ divorce. But it was a plausible enough explanation.

“Wait,” Kiichi said, blinking at him with wide eyes. “You don’t wanna date girls just ‘cause your dad got dumped?”

Atsushi flinched at that choice of words, even if he knew it was true. “What?” he snapped. “Love is nothing but a waste of time. Always ends with heartbreak and disappointment.”

“So you just don’t wanna get hurt?”

“I’m realistic, that’s all.”

“But that’s stupid. You might change your mind someday.” Kiichi pursed his lips again. “What if you meet the perfect girl and you dunno nothing about treating girls?”

Atsushi wanted to snap that this would definitely never happen, but something in Kiichi’s tone made him pause. He wasn’t simply asking a question, he realized. There was some thought behind it that he hadn’t voiced. Kiichi was up to something.

“Who cares,” he said warily. “What else should I do?”

“Hmm... practice?”

Atsushi’s head spun around. His mouth gaped open. His face felt uncomfortably hot again, although his blush was thankfully concealed by the darkness.

“Practice?” he burst out, struggling not to stumble on the words. “How on earth am I supposed to  _practice_  that, idiot?”

Kiichi shrugged, but he didn’t meet Atsushi’s eye. “I dunno. With a friend?”

“I don’t have any girl friends.”

For a few slow, pounding heartbeats, Kiichi was silent.

Then, very quietly, very clumsily, he turned his head away and mumbled, “And what about guys?”

Atsushi’s heart stopped.

Dread flooded his mind, a thousand excuses, a thousand explanations.  _It’s not like that,_  he wanted to say.  _I don’t want to do things like this with guys. I don’t know what gave you that idea, but it’s wrong. You’re wrong about me. I’m just not interested in anyone, period!_

But that would be missing the point, he knew. Kiichi hadn’t seen through him. Kiichi was too stupid for that. He was simply asking a very strange question because that was what he did on a regular basis.

He shouldn’t be treating this any differently than the other strange questions, then.

“Are you an idiot?” he asked, scoffing and clicking his tongue. “What do you want me to do, go up to some guy and ask him to practice with me for when I get a girlfriend? Can you think of a single sane human being on this planet who’d say yes?”

“I would.”

Atsushi stared, failing to process the words. “What?”

“If it’s you, I would.”

Kiichi’s words fell into the silence, quiet but clear and impossible to mistake. Impossible to misunderstand. There was no way out here, no way to brush them off and explain his way out of this. The message was clear.

Atsushi’s breath stood still in his lungs. His eyes were locked on Kiichi’s face, frozen, widened with incomprehension. His mouth gaped open, but no sound came out.

This feeling... What was this feeling?

His hands... his hands were shaking. He clenched them into the covers, but it didn’t stop the jittery, shaky sensation, the onslaught of panic. What should he say? How should he respond? He didn’t want to show these feelings. He didn’t want Kiichi to know what he still refused to acknowledge himself.

_Act normal. Act normal, idiot!_

“Why?”

“‘Cause we’re friends.” Kiichi didn’t face him as he spoke, and Atsushi was grateful, because he was sure his disappointment at these words had shown on his face. “And I wanna learn that stuff too.”

Atsushi tried to smirk. “I thought you were a genius who doesn’t need practice.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t shut up about me and practice.” Kiichi scratched his head. “So...”

“So... what?”

Awkward silence.

“What?” Atsushi asked again, masking his irritation as normal impatience when it was really a mess of frustration and disappointment, both at Kiichi and at himself for getting his hopes up. “Don’t tell me you don’t know!”

“...kiss...”

Atsushi flinched. “What?”

“I said, like a kiss!” Kiichi sat up abruptly, crossing his arms and briefly glaring at Atsushi before turning to stare at the wall. “Girls dig it when you’re good at kissing.”

Atsushi jumped off the bed, still struggling to make sense of the jumbled, frantic thoughts circulating in his head. “I–” he spluttered. “I’m not kissing you!”

“Why not?”

“Wha– Are you serious?” Atsushi clicked his tongue, battling the strengthening urge to run out of this room and escape, where to, he didn’t know. “Kissing isn’t something you can just practice with a random person! Don’t you know what a big deal someone’s first kiss is?”

Kiichi paused, thinking, then he shrugged. “It’s not gonna count.”

“You can’t just–”

“It’s practice,” Kiichi said, counting off the reasons on his fingers. “And we’re both guys. It only counts if it’s with a girlfriend.”

Atsushi stared at his face, squinting, searching for any sign that he might be joking. There was none. Kiichi seemed perfectly convinced of the absurdities he was spouting.

Why couldn’t he tell if that was a good or a bad thing?

“There’s no rule like that,” he said with a sigh, intently watching Kiichi’s face to observe his reaction.

Kiichi, however, seemed unfazed. “Who cares,” he said. “There is now.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said so.”

Atsushi didn’t answer. He was out of replies.

“So?” Kiichi asked after a while, his words impatient but his voice quiet, hesitant even. “It’s not gonna count. You wanna try?”

“Here? Now?”

Kiichi shrugged. “Why not.”

He could say yes now, Atsushi realized. He could agree and play along with this little game, whatever it would lead to. It seemed so easy. Simply sigh and give in and treat this as practice, practice he already knew he wouldn’t need. It wasn’t like he was against the idea of kissing Kiichi in the first place. Not just for practice. But that very fact was what made him hesitate.

It was just practice. It wouldn’t count. To Kiichi those words might be true, but Atsushi wasn’t so sure. One time too many had he been overly conscious of the casual touches shared between them. One time too many had he blushed when they accidentally ended up too close. One time too many had he caught himself staring at Kiichi’s face, his lips, idly wondering and imagining how it was like to feel them against his own.

Still, so what if he thought more of it? Kiichi didn’t have to know all that. He didn’t have to tell him. He could treat it as practice and be done with it. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so might as well use it.

_Fine then._

Taking a deep breath, he shrugged and clicked his tongue, forcing his voice to sound exasperated and casual as he said, “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

Kiichi lifted his head. For a second he looked almost... relieved.

Then he stood up and marched over to plant his feet in front of Atsushi. His face was focused, stubborn, the same expression he wore when trying to score a free kick at practice or demanding more passes. If the situation hadn’t been so bizarre, Atsushi might have laughed.

_Relax,_  he told himself.  _This isn’t real. It’s just practice._

Easier said than done.

Kiichi took a deep breath. Then he leaned down, grabbed Atsushi’s face and roughly smashed their lips together.

Atsushi froze up. His mind went blank. He had no idea how to respond. Teeth clicked against teeth, mouths crashed together as if forcibly searching for a position that fit, and Atsushi tasted blood as Kiichi’s mouth bruised the sensitive skin on his lips. It was horrible. He had known it would be. But somehow... his heart was racing all the same.

At long last Kiichi pulled away, and Atsushi abruptly stumbled back, coughing and spluttering and wiping his mouth. His finger came back smeared with blood. He cursed. Just what he had needed at this ungodly hour in the middle of the night.

“And?” Kiichi asked him with curious eyes, evidently oblivious to the damage he had caused. “How was it?”

Atsushi clicked his tongue. “Horrible.”

“That’s right, I’m a geni– wait, what?” Blinking, Kiichi shook his head in confusion before grabbing Atsushi’s collar to glare at him in fury. “What did you just say, you–”

“I said it was terrible!” Atsushi crossed his arms. “You’re too forceful! My lips are bleeding because of you!” Kiichi hesitated at that, and his grip on Atsushi’s shirt slackened. “What did I tell you about self-restraint and not being greedy? It matters here too!”

“Oh yeah? Look who’s talking.” Kiichi glared defiantly at his feet. “You didn’t even do nothing. You just stood there and let it happen.”

Atsushi shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling caught. “Who wouldn’t,” he grumbled. “Your force would make anyone freeze up, idiot.”

Kiichi was quiet for a very long time. Then he huffed.

“Wanna try again?”

Atsushi’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“Do it better this time.” Kiichi’s gaze was on anything and everything but Atsushi’s face. “That’s how practice works, right?”

He was doomed. Atsushi knew he was.

“Fine. Just once!”

Kiichi let go of his shirt, then he cupped his face and kissed him again.

Atsushi expected another rough smash like the one before, but nothing like it happened. Instead Kiichi’s lips brushed lightly against his own, softly, carefully, almost caressing his skin as if trying to make up for bruising it earlier. Almost too light they were, too hesitant, and before he knew what he was doing Atsushi felt his own body respond.

He acted on instinct. Standing up on his tip-toes, he pulled himself up on Kiichi’s shoulders and gently returned the kiss, closing his eyes as he let Kiichi’s soft lips press against his own. Because soft they were, now that he was trying so hard to follow Atsushi’s advice and hold back, soft and full and warm. Warm, too, was the large hand still cupping his face, the other one that came to rest on his back, gently but firmly pulling him closer. It was the same kind of warmth he had felt the day Kiichi had flopped down on top of him and clung to him until he agreed to try for the selection, except softer now, less childlike, just like the two of them had grown less childlike and more mature themselves.

Time stood still while they stood there, holding onto each other, their lips joined together in this soft, careful kiss. Then they pulled away, catching their breaths, their faces still so close their noses were almost brushing against each other.

“So,” Kiichi said at last, his eyes reflecting the distant street lights outside the window, “how was I?”

Atsushi didn’t respond at once. He only stared at him, his brain slowly catching up with the situation until he abruptly pulled away.

“Better,” he managed out at last. “Do it like this and no girl will ever complain.”

“Really?”

“Did I stutter? You did fine.” Kiichi opened his mouth to say something else, but Atsushi was already halfway back on the way to his bed. “No, you don’t need any more practice. You need to shut up and go to sleep.”

“But–”

“ _Good night, Kiichi._ ”

Clicking his tongue, Atsushi crawled into bed and demonstratively turned to face the wall, pulling the blanket up to his ears and trying not to think of anything. Especially not what had happened just now. What on earth he had been thinking, agreeing to this and then getting carried away.

With gritted teeth and a pounding heart he forced himself to think of something else. Something other than Kiichi’s lips on his, Kiichi’s hand in the small of his back. He thought back through their conversation. How had they ended up here? How had they managed to get so off track?

Oh right... that girl. Kiichi’s indecision...

“Kiichi,” he said into the silence of the room, “you still awake?”

From the other side of the room came a rustle of blankets. “Mhm.”

“Decided what you’re planning to do about that girl yet?”

Kiichi was silent for a few seconds. Then, softly, he spoke, quietly but without further hesitation.

“I’m gonna reject her,” he said. “She’s not my type.”

“Okay.”

Silence fell again. Atsushi continued to lie awake for most of the night, trying to calm down his trembling limbs and pounding heart. Unknown to him, a few feet away, Kiichi did the same.

The next morning found them both sleep-deprived and miserable, but when asked about the reason both of them pretended nothing ever happened.

It was easier that way.


	4. Ten Long Years

Summer was fading into fall. The last rays of heat shone down on the world from the early September sun, the leaves on the trees still green but slowly beginning to turn yellow at the edges. Ripe berries and other fruit hung on some of them; on others they had already fallen or been picked off. Mornings were starting to get damp and chilly; but the afternoons were still warm, hot even, hot enough to sit on the bridge and munch on popsicles on the way home.

It was the summer of their third year of middle school, and sitting here and eating popsicles had become something of a ritual. As often as they could they would stop by the nearby convenience store after practice and then sit here, dangling their legs and watching the water flow by far below their feet. A ritual that would have to come to an end soon. In a few weeks it would be too cold for popsicles, and sitting on the bridge’s stone railing would chill them and make them sick. In a few weeks’ time they would have to say goodbye to this habit and either come up with a replacement or leave it entirely.

Usually Atsushi wasn’t so attached to rituals and little habits. If the situation was any different, he wouldn’t care less about summer ending and the weather getting too cold for ice cream. But this was their last year of middle school. A thought he was trying to ignore, yet one that snaked its way into his head every time he noticed the slow but relentless changing of the seasons.

He didn’t want to think about the dwindling months he had left on the team with Kiichi. He didn’t want to think about the time after that, the uncertain future after they inevitably parted ways. They wouldn’t be able to hang out like this once they went to different high schools. They wouldn’t be able to go home together or play soccer together, except on their days off. Kiichi would find new companions, new friends. And Atsushi?

After they graduated from middle school and parted ways, would Atsushi still have a place in his life?

Part of him scoffed at that thought, calling it nonsense. They had made it work before entering middle school. They could make it work the same way again. Call and text a lot, meet up after school or on days off, spontaneously hang out at each other’s places or play soccer on the nearby pitch. It wouldn’t be the same, but it wasn’t like Kiichi would be gone from his life. He would only be a little further away again.

But, said the other part, back in elementary school it had been Kiichi doing all the reaching out. Without Kiichi’s constant efforts their friendship would have fallen asleep and eventually faded into obscurity.

Back then Atsushi had been the only one able to keep up with Kiichi. But they had been kids then. Now they were surrounded by countless players who were easily their equals or better, and there would be more and better ones as they went on into high school and entered powerhouse teams. Kiichi wouldn’t need Atsushi to be at his strongest anymore. Maybe Kiichi would even discover that he wasn’t at his strongest with Atsushi in the first place.

He knew he shouldn’t think that. They had made it together this far, and surely Kiichi also treasured him as a person, soccer or no soccer. He wouldn’t turn his back on him that easily, not with how clingy he was. And yet Atsushi couldn’t stop the feeling that his days with Kiichi were running out.

“Summer’s ending soon, huh.”

He didn’t know why he had said that out loud. He didn’t know what he expected from that captain obvious statement. It had slipped out before he could stop it.

“It’s September already,” he went on, not sure where he was going with his own words, simply trying to follow up his first sentence with something more intelligent. “Six more months and we’re out of middle school.”

Kiichi didn’t reply immediately. He only dangled his legs, staring down at the river below and finishing his popsicle. Then he slowly looked up, as if deep in thought.

“Yup,” he said at last. “And then we’re in high school.”

“Yeah.”

Atsushi shifted where he said, trying to muster up the courage to say the next few words.  _Do you know which high school you’re going to?_  A simple sentence. And yet for some reason he dreaded to say it out loud.

Or maybe, he thought, it wasn’t the question but the answer that he dreaded.

“Where you going?”

He snapped out of his thoughts. “What?”

“High school.” Kiichi tossed his popsicle stick into the nearby trash can and turned to fully face Atsushi, crossing his arms. “Where you going?”

Atsushi blinked in surprise. Then he bit back a smirk. There he had been, trying to work up his courage, and then Kiichi had gone and easily beaten him to the punch.

“Not sure,” he said, closing his eyes and shrugging. “I’ve got that one offer, but it’s not official yet. Depends on how I play in the next few matches, I guess.”

Kiichi pursed his lips, then his eyes went round with recognition. “Oh right, I remember that coach guy,” he said. “What was the school called again?”

Atsushi momentarily gazed into the air, trying to recall it. “Seiseki Private High School.”

“Hmm.” Kiichi stared at him with the same intensity he always had when thinking up something stupid. “Is it strong?”

“A powerhouse. They’ve made it to nationals this year.”

“Okay. I’m going there.”

Atushi nearly fell into the river.

“What are you talking about?” he spluttered, torn between shock, embarrassment, annoyance, and a sparkle of joy. “You can’t just decide that out of nowhere!”

Kiichi looked unfazed. “Why not?”

“Because– Because–” Atsushi trailed off, flushing with the realization that he may have reacted a little more strongly than the situation required. “Because... why would you go to that school just because I’m going? You know nothing about it!”

“It’s strong. And you’re going.” Kiichi still didn’t bat an eye. “That’s enough for me.”

Atsushi stared back at him, trying to find the right words and failing. There was so much he wanted to protest, so much he wanted to ask about. It didn’t make sense. Why should Kiichi want to follow him into high school? They were a good team, sure, but they didn’t have to stay together forever. Teammates changed a lot, in school and on pro teams alike. There were plenty of midfielders out there who could meet Kiichi’s standards with ease, some of them better than Atsushi ever could.

But none of those thoughts left his mouth. The only thing he finally managed out was, “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re my playmaker.” Kiichi pointed at Atsushi, then at himself. “And I’m your forward.”

Atsushi sat frozen in place.

Little by little, inch by inch, he felt his face heat up.

Kiichi continued to gaze at him in expectation, but little by little his expression went off the rails. His calm, stubborn stare slipped, his eyes drifting off to the side until he averted his head, blushing and pouting. “What?” he grumbled. “You don’t want me to go to your high school or something?”

Atsushi gave a snort. Then he started laughing.

It wasn’t even that the situation was funny. He was simply relieved. Relieved that Kiichi had these thoughts, that for him it was completely natural that they would stay together for high school too. Kiichi hadn’t even questioned it, he thought. Kiichi had never once considered that they might possibly part ways.

“Dumbass,” he said, tapping his fist against Kiichi’s side. “People don’t normally follow their teammates to high school, stupid.”

Kiichi went pink. “But you’re not just my teammate,” he said. “You’re my best friend!”

Atsushi stopped laughing. A new feeling drastically pushed aside the relief, a tingle of happiness and jittery butterflies in his stomach and chest, the desire to disappear under the bridge warring with the irrational urge to tackle Kiichi with a hug. Warm it was, and fluffy. Incredulous and affectionate all at once.

He didn’t try to hide. He didn’t hug Kiichi either. Instead he gave a small smile, averting his eyes and almost accidentally brushing his fingers against Kiichi’s as he replied.

“And you’re mine,” he said. “Now you better study. Big words won’t help you if you fail the entrance exams.”

\---

Cherry petals blew across the pitch as Atsushi inhaled the cool spring air, letting his eyes roam around before stepping onto the grass.

So here they were now, in high school. On the same team once more. Full of thoughts and dreams and motivation, ready to enter this team and turn it upside-down. He wondered how good the players here were. Was there anyone here who could handle his passes? Was there anyone here who could keep up with his ideals, his dream of playing perfect soccer?

Hopefully. This team wasn’t a powerhouse for nothing. And even if all the other first-years and upperclassmen couldn’t do it, it wasn’t much of a problem. He had Kiichi. And Kiichi could do it for sure.

They lined up for the tryouts side by side. They introduced themselves together. They ran together, paired up for the passing exercises together. People were giving them looks. Atsushi didn’t care. If anyone was judging them for sticking to each other like a pair of conjoined twins, they would simply have to show them the full extent of their skills.

At last it was time for a practice match, and the first-years were divided up into teams and matched with players from second and third year to show off their skills. Atsushi let his eyes run over his and Kiichi’s teammates. None of them stood out much at first glance. Some looked faintly familiar, but he couldn’t recall ever seeing any of them play.

The whistle rang, and the game began. Atsushi took his spot directly behind the forwards, Kiichi, some unfamiliar first-year, and a dark-haired second-year who had barely spoken a word for the entirety of the tryouts. He would try and pass to each of them at some point, Atsushi thought. But most of all he wanted to show off his teamwork with Kiichi.

If he had the chance, he thought, he would pass to him first. Just for the first impression.

Footsteps ran over the grass. The ball got to Atsushi, hitting his foot with a familiar tap. His eyes darted from side to side, taking in the position of every player, trying to determine the ideal attack. Kiichi wasn’t too far from the goal. If he passed to him in a high trajectory no one but him could reach and he finished it in a header–

A figure darted ahead in front of his eyes. Lightning-fast. Almost impossible to follow.

Atsushi’s thoughts stopped abruptly. An instinct shot through him, overtaking his mind. It was a chance, his senses were telling him. An ideal constellation, too good to miss.

Fixing his eyes on the second-hair forward, he took aim and sent the most powerful pass he could give.

The ball spun over the grass, and for a moment the air stood still in his lungs. It hit the forward’s foot.

He accepted the pass with ease and powerfully slammed it into the net.

Everything was perfectly silent. The only thing Atsushi heard was the pounding of his heartbeat as the forward turned around, pumping his fist and then giving him a thumbs-up.

“Nice pass,” he said. “Are you a first-year?”

Atsushi couldn’t reply at once. Too stunned he was, too overwhelmed by the feeling that he had just met a force beyond his wildest imagination.

Kiichi still stood near the goal, free and unmarked, a look of confusion and betrayal on his face.

\---

The season went good. Outstandingly good. At least Atsushi thought so. The powerful second-year, Mizuki, was turning out to be an even greater force than he had expected, and Atsushi was the one he teamed up with on the pitch, sending him critical passes and enabling him to reach even greater heights than before.

Mizuki wasn’t human, he was a monster. A genius in the flesh, a star in the making. And Atsushi had somehow had the fortune of being paired up with him on the pitch, even if it was only for one or two years of high school. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. An opportunity to prove himself and step into the spotlight alongside the force of nature that was Mizuki Hisahito.

So he spent more time with him, of course. Pairing up for passing exercises, trying to discuss strategies, staying behind after practice to work on their combined attacks. And perhaps it was only natural that Atsushi was drawn to him, drawn the way a fan was drawn to a celebrity, admiring him, seeking his presence, his bright, blinding talent. Putting his all into keeping up with him and being allowed to stay his assistant, his enabler for just a little longer.

But of course that single-minded focus meant that he sometimes neglected other things.

Today he didn’t stay behind with Mizuki after practice for a change. He had the store to take care of, and an inhuman pile of homework to boot. Frustratingly mundane tasks compared to practicing passes with Mizuki. But they needed to be done, so he quickly packed his things together and left the club room.

“Hey.”

He stopped in his tracks. He knew this voice calling after him from the door, even if he hadn’t heard it as frequently in the past few weeks. When had been the last time they talked, actually? Atsushi tried to recall, but he couldn’t remember.

“What?” he asked, turning around to face Kiichi where he stood in front of the closed door, his hand still on the doorknob. “You want anything?”

Kiichi’s expression didn’t change, but somehow Atsushi still couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done something wrong.

“Going home already?”

Atsushi tensed invariably. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something about Kiichi’s voice, his question sounded just slightly off. Like there was another layer to that seemingly innocent question, and he couldn’t make out what it was.

“Yeah,” he said warily, straining himself to sound casual. “I have homework and the store to mind.”

Kiichi didn’t reply at once. He only gave a small nod, then a shadow fell over his eyes and voice.

“You forgot something.”

Atsushi furrowed his brow. Something was definitely wrong, seriously wrong. “What are you–?”

“Me!” Pushing himself off the door, Kiichi marched towards him until he came to stand within arm’s reach, his bright eyes flashing with something Atsushi couldn’t understand. “Whatever happened to walking home together, asshole?”

Atsushi flinched, taking a step backwards as if to fall into a defensive stance. He had completely forgotten. They hadn’t walked home together in so long that he had completely forgotten.

“Nothing!” he burst out, masking his guilt with annoyance, annoyance that, when he looked at it, wasn’t half unjustified. “Since when are you entitled to walking home with me, huh?”

This time it was Kiichi’s turn to flinch. His eyes went wide with betrayal, his face momentarily looking as if he had been slapped in the face.

“I’m not entitled,” he said, half defensive, half hurt. “We always used to walk home together. And now you just left me behind! Even though we never get the chance to do anything together anymore!” He balled up his fists. “Are you tired of me or what?”

“No!” Something constricted in Atsushi’s chest. “I forgot, that’s all!”

Atsushi had barely spoken the words when he realized he had made a mistake.

“Forgot, huh,” Kiichi said quietly, lowering his head as a bitter smile crossed his face. “Yeah, ‘course you did.”

“What do you–”

“Don’t play clueless!” Without warning Kiichi began to shout, grabbing Atsushi by the collar and yanking him close with both hands. “I’ve seen you! For weeks and weeks you’ve been thinking about nothing but that stupid Mizuki!”

Atsushi froze, going limp against Kiichi’s grip. He knew where this was going. He knew it. And yet he didn’t know what to say.

“You’re always with him,” Kiichi continued, his voice quieter now but all the more bitter. “You always pass to him. You never send me a pass anymore. Not even when I’m free and right in front of your face! He’s all you see! All you care about! You’re so obsessed with him you ignore your own best friend!”

Kiichi caught his breath, his hands shaking, and Atsushi swallowed hard as he closed his eyes. He had messed up. He knew he had. Ever since meeting Mizuki he had been too drawn to his power, his glory, throwing aside everything and everyone to stand in that light, neglecting even Kiichi. He should never have gone this far. He should never have let himself get so carried away.

“Kiichi,” he said softly, opening his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can explain–”

“You don’t gotta.” Kiichi let go of his shirt and stepped back. “I know.”

“Wha–”

“You’re in love with him, right?”

Silence.

Atsushi opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. He wanted to protest. He wanted to tell Kiichi he was wrong. He had no feelings for Mizuki. The thought had never even crossed his mind. But his voice failed him, and all he could do was shake his head as Kiichi gave a bitter laugh.

“You think I’m stupid?” he asked. “I figured it all out. Why you didn’t want a girlfriend. Why you got so pissed whenever somebody asked you about girls. And then that guy comes into your life and you drop everything to be with him! Everything! He’s all you see! All you think about! I’ve been with you for way longer and know you way better and you just forget about me ‘cause he’s here! What happened to being my playmaker, asshole? What happened to our killer combos? I came to this school ‘cause of those! I only came to this fucking school ‘cause of  _you_!”

Atsushi couldn’t answer. He only stood there rooted to the ground, frozen in place, staring up at Kiichi in silent disbelief. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t it. He wanted to tell him so badly that that wasn’t it. Kiichi had it all wrong.

But no sound came out, and Kiichi wouldn’t have listened anyway. With a furious huff he spun around on his heel and stormed off, wiping something on his face as he went.

“Kiichi!” Atsushi called after him, finally snapping out of his trance. “Kiichi, wait!”

“Forget it!” Kiichi shouted over his shoulder. “I’m gonna do you a favor and leave you alone! Have fun hanging out with your precious Mizuki!”

With that he was gone, and Atsushi wanted nothing more than to disappear in a hole in the ground and forget this conversation ever happened.

\---

Kiichi was wrong. Atsushi knew he was.

With every step he took towards home that thought became clearer and clearer. This had all been a misunderstanding. He admired Mizuki, sure. He wanted to pass to him and score goals with him and support his growth and become the man behind the legend the second-year would undoubtedly become in time.

And yet... that was it. He didn’t care much about spending time with Mizuki as a person. They got along okay, but that guy was weird and often annoying, even more book-dumb than Kiichi and much more out there. He could never tell what he was thinking, and it stressed him out. Practicing together with him was fun, sure, but afterwards he was always exhausted and battling a headache. Mizuki was a good player. The best he had ever met. But becoming his friend, let alone falling in love with him... the thought seemed so outlandish it almost made him laugh.

Mizuki might be the talented beyond measure, he thought, a one-in-a-million genius. But Kiichi was his friend. The one he wanted to spend time with, the one who made him let down his guard, the one he could be with day and night without an ounce of exhaustion – that wasn’t Mizuki. It could never be. The one he wanted to be with, the one who could make him feel calm and at ease and yet send adrenaline rushing through his body at any moment – that person had always been Kiichi.

It was Kiichi he wanted to be close with. Kiichi he wanted to walk home after school and eat ice cream with, sitting somewhere and wasting their time chatting about anything that crossed their minds. Kiichi whose hugs felt like a welcome instead of an intrusion, Kiichi who felt comfortable against him even when he was sticky and sweaty and muddy after practice. It was Kiichi whose bright eyes and silly pouts and happy, excitable grins lit up his life no matter how gloomy he felt. It was Kiichi who he wanted to see just for the sake of seeing him, simply because otherwise he didn’t feel fully himself anymore.

He wasn’t in love with Mizuki. He never had been.

For years and years now, that spot had always belonged to Kiichi.

\---

What should he do?

For years now Atsushi had kept this secret, locking it up and keeping it hidden in the darkest corner of his mind, lying, pretending, claiming these feelings didn’t exist. For years he had put up a mask in front of everyone, acting as if he simply had no interest in girls because he was busy enough without them, and people had readily believed it. Or so he had thought.

Kiichi hadn’t bought it in the end, after all. Kiichi had seen through him, and yet not. He had figured out part of the truth. But the most important part he hadn’t understood. The most important part was still Atsushi’s secret.

Should he tell him everything?

It could easily end their friendship, he knew. One wrong speculation and things would be over. Kiichi might mock him, or he might get awkward and uncomfortable and insecure like he had with that girl back in middle school. He might push him away or distance himself or call him disgusting. Atsushi would understand him. Sometimes he felt disgusting himself, having such thoughts and feelings about his best friend. But hearing that from Kiichi... he didn’t know if he could bear it.

And yet he somehow didn’t feel like it would happen. This was Kiichi, his best friend, his partner on the pitch. His forward. Their bond wasn’t as fragile as that. Kiichi wouldn’t desert him that easily. Atsushi knew he wouldn’t. He trusted him not to.

Should he tell him?

Atsushi rolled onto his back, staring at the dark ceiling of his room. Did he want to? He couldn’t tell. It wasn’t like he expected Kiichi to like him back. It wasn’t like he thought he needed to know, or like it was worth the humiliation. The only reason why he even considered it was because he couldn’t think of anything else that would convince Kiichi he wasn’t in love with Mizuki.

Why did he care so much about that in the first place?

_This isn’t normal for friends,_  a voice whispered in his mind.  _Friends don’t angrily accuse their friends of being in love with someone they spend a lot of time with. Friends aren’t mad at you for liking someone who hasn’t been around as long as they have. Friends don’t tell you they only came to a school because of you. At least not in this context. Friends don’t act so... so jealous._

It was probably wishful thinking, he told himself. He was reading too much into signs that weren’t there, and if he actually told Kiichi about his feelings he would be crushingly disappointed. And yet those words seemed weak to his own mind, weak against the hope rapidly rising up in his mind.

He could risk it. He could take the leap. He didn’t know how or when or with what words. Should he text him? Should he yank him aside before or after school for a private talk? Should he pull a Kiichi and just yell his feelings at him in the heat of an argument?

And then another thought crossed his mind. A completely absurd, ridiculous thought. Dangerous, even. So dangerous it made him tremble at the mere thought. But deep inside he knew it was the right decision.

So he gathered his courage to follow it through.

After their next match, their next victory, when everyone was hugging and celebrating and no one paid attention to the two of them, he went up to Kiichi and pulled him down into a kiss.

For real this time.

\---

Rain was drumming against the windows of their apartment, the falling darkness outside kept out by drawn curtains and the warm light of the living room lamp. The room was quiet. The only noise were their quiet breaths and the distant pitter-pattering of the cat’s paws somewhere in another room.

Neither of them had moved in half an hour. They had nothing to do tonight, nowhere to be, and nights like this were getting few and far between. No responsibilities. No duties. Just a quiet, lazy evening spent lounging on the couch together, reading or scrolling through their phones.

It was Kiichi who broke the silence, giving a snort and shifting where he sat. “Atsushi,” he said, “look.”

Blinking, Atsushi tore his gaze from his book and lifted his head where it had rested in Kiichi’s lap. “What?” he asked sleepily. “Something important?”

Kiichi didn’t answer the question. He only held his phone in Atsushi’s face and said, “My sis sent me this.”

Atsushi took the phone from Kiichi’s hand and held it at arm’s length, squinting at the screen, unwilling to get up just to get his glasses. The image Kiichi had shown him was one of them both. A series of press photos, evidently, from their first pro season together some three years ago. In the first one they were posing together normally, both of them looking messy but proud after scoring a goal. Atsushi scrolled down with a snort. He had a vague idea of what was coming.

The second photo, just as he remembered, showed Kiichi grabbing him and trying to lift him up in the air, Lion King-style. The third was Atsushi kicking him in the shin; the fourth had them both on the ground, disgruntled and grimacing but visibly moments away from bursting into laughter.

“Remember this?” Kiichi said, peering over his shoulder. “The first time we got famous on the net. No clue where Sis dug it up again.”

Atsushi cracked a smirk even as a faint blush of embarrassment heated up his face. “Probably some fan website or something.”

He could almost hear the sparkles in Kiichi’s voice as he responded. “You think we got fan websites?”

“Not we,” Atsushi replied, nudging him with his elbow. “Our team.”

“I bet we do too.”

Atsushi closed his eyes, handing the phone back to Kiichi as he adjusted his position, making himself comfortable in his lap once more. “In your dreams, maybe,” he said. “We still have a long way to go.”

Kiichi was silent for a moment. Then warm fingertips threaded gently through Atsushi’s hair, making him close his eyes and melt into the touch. “But we’ve already come pretty far too,” he said. “Remember when we first met?”

Atsushi couldn’t help chuckling. “You mean when you got your ass handed to you at keepie-uppies?”

“That was back then.” Kiichi was audibly pouting. “I’m almost as good as you now.”

“Congrats. Only took you, what, ten years?”

“I’m getting there.”

“You’ve been saying that the whole time.”

“’Cause it’s true. I  _am_  getting there.” Kiichi’s hand lingered in Atsushi’s hair, fingers tangling in the strands. “Just slowly.”

“I know.” Bringing up a hand, Atsushi caught hold of Kiichi’s, softly intertwining their fingers together. “The learning curve can’t be steep when you’re already at a high level.”

“You’re still higher though.”

“At least at keepie-uppies.”

“And passing.” Kiichi pulled away from Atsushi’s hair, running his fingers over his forehead and cheekbones instead. “And free kicks. And keeping an eye on the whole pitch. And being smart.” His other hand closed around Atsushi’s. “Nothing less from my playmaker.”

Atsushi chuckled. “You’re in a sappy mood, huh? No wonder, with all the holding back you do in public.”

Kiichi’s shadow fell over his face. “Nobody’s suspecting a thing,” he said triumphantly. “Am I not doing a great job?”

Atsushi opened his eyes. Kiichi’s face was directly above his, his bright eyes sparkling, more mature and subdued now and yet still the same, hiding the same joy and energy as the first time they met. They had both grown up, he thought. And yet, at the core, nothing had changed.

“You’re doing great,” he said, pushing himself up to plant a kiss on Kiichi’s lips. “I’m proud of you.”

Kiichi’s eyes went round, then they started shining as his whole face lit up, half mischievous, half filled with joy. “Say that again!”

“I say it all the time,” Atsushi said, smiling against Kiichi’s lips. “I’m proud of you, Kiichi.”

Kiichi made a small happy noise and kissed him. His arms snaked underneath his back, pulling him upright into a sitting position and pressing him against his chest, and Atsushi returned the gesture by hugging the back of Kiichi’s neck. They stayed like that until they needed to draw breath, and when they finally parted Kiichi flopped onto his back and pulled Atsushi down with him. “I love you,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

Atsushi smirked. “Including or excluding you?”

“Hmm... doesn’t matter.” Kiichi shrugged. “You’re the best boyfriend I could have. I can’t be my own boyfriend. So I don’t really care.”

“You don’t care which one of us is better at something? You must be getting old.”

“It’s fine. We don’t gotta be rivals,” Kiichi said as he squeezed Atsushi to his chest, making him cough and splutter. “We’re better as a team anyway.”

“That’s true.”

Atsushi closed his eyes, relaxing in Kiichi’s embrace and listening to his heartbeat. Their position was a bit awkward, but it was comfortable. And warm. And they were safely inside their apartment, all by themselves, without the need to worry about what people thought of their displays of affection.

Somehow he still couldn’t believe it hadn’t raised any eyebrows, but apparently people were willing to buy a lot of affection from self-declared childhood friends. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but for their careers it was definitely lucky. Ever since their debut they had been on the same team, steadily climbing up in skill and fame but refusing to transfer unless the other came with them. That part had been Kiichi’s idea, of course. And thankfully their teamwork was so good that people even let them get away with this escapade.

They still had a long way to go, but they were getting there. They weren’t like Mizuki, who was already a member of the national team by now. But this wasn’t a race. They were pros, and they were happy, and they would get wherever they wanted to get in due time, together. Like they had always been, for ten long years.

“Say,” he said on a sudden impulse, “remember our first match together in middle school?”

Kiichi’s chest shook a little underneath him as he laughed. “You hit me with the ball ‘cause I wasn’t paying attention,” he said. “But we still scored the winning goal.”

“Yeah.” Atsushi smiled. “Back then I never thought we’d end up going pro. Much less together.”

“Really?” Kiichi said nonchalantly. “I always knew we would.”

“That’s because you always have big stupid dreams like that.”

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“They’re unrealistic is all,” Atsushi said, half smirking up at him. “This one came true by pure luck, but you can’t expect the same from the rest of them. Don’t throw a fit if it turns out you’ve dreamed too big.”

“I can’t dream too big,” Kiichi replied simply. “Not if it’s with you.”

Atsushi’s heart skipped a beat, his face feeling warm even though he should definitely be used to Kiichi saying things like that by now. “Wha–”

“We can make the national team.” Kiichi gazed into the distance, his face bright in the yellow light of the lamp. “And then let’s go to the World Cup together. And win.”

“Kiichi, that’s not–”

Atsushi stopped himself mid-sentence. That wasn’t the issue, he realized. Kiichi’s dreams weren’t realistic, not by a long shot. But they were possible.

How realistic had it been that the two of them would stay a team throughout middle and high school and into their professional career? How realistic had it been for them to become a couple? If someone had told him ten years ago that all this would happen, he would have laughed at them. He would have told them they were out of their minds. Because honestly, what were the odds?

They had made it this far. Against all odds, against all protests, they were here now. Rising stars on the sky of professional soccer. Together.

Who said they couldn’t make it even further?

“Fine,” he said, a smirk making its way onto his face as he spoke. “Let’s go for it and see how far we come.”

Kiichi glanced back at him. Surprise was in his eyes, then amazement, joy and pride. “Yeah!” he cheered. “That’s the spirit! And then,” he added in a softer voice, “someday, let’s get married.”

Atsushi froze where he lay.

“Wha–” he spluttered out, rapidly feeling his face turn redder and redder and redder until it was almost on fire. “Kii– you– are you– do you even realize what you’re saying?”

“Yup,” Kiichi said with a nod. “Marry me, Atsushi.”

“Idiot! We can’t even do that here! The law–”

“We can do it overseas.”

“But– if people find out–”

“It’s fine if we do it after we retire. They can’t fire us if we’re not playing anymore.”

Atsushi stared at him in a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and ever-increasing awe.

This hadn’t come out of nowhere, he realized. Kiichi had put actual thought into this. Maybe even research. This was more than a thoughtless statement blurted out on impulse.

Butterflies stirred up in his stomach and took flight like he was sixteen and lovesick again. His face felt hotter than ever. Then, for some reason, he began to laugh.

“Hey!” Kiichi burst out, nudging him in the ribcage. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m just surprised.” Atsushi grinned down at him. “You finally learned how to use your head, huh?”

“Wha– Hey! I’ve always used my head!”

“Yeah, to hit the ball with! Using it to think is a whole new feature for you!”

“Say that again and I’m gonna take back the proposal!”

“I’m just messing with you, stupid.” Still grinning, Atsushi leaned down to press a kiss against Kiichi’s lips. “You’ve become more mature. I’m proud of you.”

Kiichi returned the kiss, then he blinked up at Atsushi, fixing his gaze with hopeful eyes. “So...” he said at last, “does that mean... you’ll say yes?”

Atsushi smiled, and that smile was answer enough. They both knew what it meant. They could read each other’s faces like open books after all these years.

“I have no reason not to.”


End file.
